


My heart is with you; the sea.

by Thesuspiciousflyingjellyfish



Series: Inktober 2020 SanCor fest [15]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Final Fantasy XV, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Longing, Scottish Folklore & Mythology, Selkies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:00:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27069766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thesuspiciousflyingjellyfish/pseuds/Thesuspiciousflyingjellyfish
Summary: Inktober prompt #17: StormDuring a storm, Sansa spots a figure by the shoreline.
Relationships: Sansa Stark/Cor Leonis
Series: Inktober 2020 SanCor fest [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948696
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	My heart is with you; the sea.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what time period this is sent, but during our world, and sometime before electricity i guess.  
> Sansa is like, 21 in this, with Cor being I guess the equivalent.

Her cottage windows rattled with the onslaught of the storm raging outside, and she sat next to them, watching the sea waves crash against the rocky beach. Though it was only earlier evening, the heavy, dark clouds blocked out any possible light, making everything look grey and gloomy. But Sansa loved this weather, for it reminded her of her husband, and the night they met.

She had been late leaving the market, held up by a seller who would not stop wanting to haggle. And though she enjoyed a good haggle, the clouds were rolling in quick and by the time she had left the market, the raining had already started. She was about five minutes away from her cottage, a torrent of raining making the journey drag on longer than it actually was, when she spotted him.

It was more of chance than anything, looking up to see how far she had to walk still and noticed a strange lump on the rocky shores. Squinting through the rain, she made out a faint shape of a person, and dropped her basket of food in shock, running down to the body.

What she saw was completely baffling, but didn’t not soothe any less of her concerns. A naked man laid face down, with a strange pelt tossed haphazardly over his back. Her hands slipped on the wet skin, trying to find his pulse and breathed a sigh of relief at the steady beat under her fingers.

Sansa wanted to turn him over, to see if there were any injures, but felt a little unsure with his state of undress. Biting her lip, she went to try anyways, but as soon as she tried to shift the pelt to lie over his lower regions, the body jerked away from her touch.

Snatching her hand away with mild fright, Sansa instead went for speaking, seeing that he was at the very least cognitive. At her calling out to see if he was awake, his head shifted and turned to her direction.

Bleary eyed, he looked up at her in confusion, and at this point, Sansa was soaked to the bone from the rain and desperately wanted to get inside. The man seemed to be in some kind of shock, and it would take awhile for him to get his bearings, so she huffed and set her face into one of determination.

Unclasping her cape, stifling a gasp at the cold downpour, she wrapped it around the man, pelt and all, and began to tug him up by his arm, swinging it over her shoulders. He managed to at least stumble up with her, but put most of his weight onto her slightly smaller body, Sansa grunting from his heaviness.

Wrapping her other arm around his waist, she began the long, and arduous journey back home, stooping down to pick up her basket on the way because she’d be damned if she left her well haggled purchases behind.

The five minute journey, already long with the rain, felt like centuries with the almost dead weight of a heavier man. She was panting and shaking from exertion and the cold by the time she reached her cottage. Leaning him against the door way, one hand steadying him, she fished in her skirt pockets for her keys, fumbling to turn the lock with wet and trembling hands.

Finally, she was out of the rain, and the man seemed a little more conscious, so she just had to direct him to the wooden stool in front of the large fire place.

She was dripping water everywhere, flitting about the main room of her home, dragging wood and tinder to the fire place to get it started. The man was watching her with wary and assessing eyes as she knelt down by the fire place, and cracked her flint and stone together to get a spark.

Soon enough, the tinder caught light, and the fire place was roaring with delicious heat in minutes. Sansa allowed herself the short reprieve, sighing with relief, before clambering back up, her wet clothes now very uncomfortably clinging to her skin.

Turning to look at her guest, she began softly, “I will get you some dry clothes and towel.” And then reached out for her sopping wet cloak but froze. He momentarily flinched, fist turning white as he held tight to his pelt, and she let out an exasperated huff.

“I’m not trying to steal your pelt, I need to hang up my cloak to dry.” She continued to keep her hand outstretched, watching how his eyes flickered from her hand to her a face a few times, before he nodded slowly.

Dragging the cloak off his body, her boots squelching with how water-clogged they were with every step, she hung up the garment by the door, and sat down on the bench under the small coat rack. Untying and dragging off her shoes, she did the same with her socks and padded back to the fireplace, dragging her drying rack near it so her wet socks would dry.

As she set her boots down near the flame, remembering to place the grate in front of the fire, she faced the man again.

“Do you have a name?”

He wet chapped lips, water from his short hair dripping onto his face, and hoarsely responed, “I’m Cor.”

Softening at the fragile posture of the man, she gentle greeted him, “It’s nice to meet you Cor, though maybe not the best circumstances. I’m Sansa.”

Giving him a small smile, she turned and strode into her bedroom on the right of the house, and began to dry her body and change, her wolf-hound Lady looked up at her entrance, wiry tail wagging a little in greeting when Sansa ran her hand over the canine’s head. Pulling on a new set of woollen tights, and then socks, she shrugged on a thick blue, long-sleeved dress. After fastening the buttons up the front of the dress, she pulled her wet hair out of it’s braid and wrapped it in a large cloth, not wanting it to drip all over her already frigid skin. Lastly, a thick knitted shawl was tossed over her shoulders, and then she returned to the main room, minding the puddles of water.

She crossed the large room, passed Cor, and into the small kitchen. There she checked to pot on the stove of last night’s stew, and lit the fire for the stove to warm it up. After that, she went to a room at the back of the house, where she stored her wares.

As the main seamstress of her fishing town, she had many products stacked and ready to be brought to her stall in the market square. Fishing through piles of folded men’s ware, she pulled out some thick trousers, and a loose white shirt. She was pretty sure this was a commission for a sailor who never returned to collect them, so Sansa was fine to bring those, and some knitted socks, into the main room.

Looking at Cor properly for the first time, she realised he was quite the handsome man, and he held a wildness to him. Both in the wary way he tracked her movements like a feral cat, and the fact that he had some animal pelt tossed over one shoulder and coming down to lay on his lap.

Handing her findings over, she offered, “You may change in my bedroom, or here. I will leave the room to give you some privacy.”

Giving him the option, she noticed how he looked to the fire and then back to her, and that was enough of an answer for her. With a nod of understanding, she left the room and back to her bedroom. Lady was now standing up from her bed on the ground, and tilted her head curiously up at Sansa.

Kneeling down to hug her companion, Sansa buried her face into her warm neck. “Strange man in the other room, Lady. And that pelt is curious.” She murmured softly into her fur. Sansa stayed that way, giving him a good five minutes to change, before peeking out of the door way.

He had the white shirt hanging loosely over the trousers, the neck line a little large for his more lean form. He looked up at her movements, in the middle of laying the pelt on the drying rack. The dark shadows and the orange glow of the fire casted across Cor’s body gave Sansa a strange sensation that he wasn’t entirely human. There was an otherworldly look to his person.

Staring at the pelt in contemplation, Sansa began to walk into the room, recalling sailor folklore she had heard over the years. Looking away from the pelt, she met his blue-grey eyes, heavy like the storm raging outside.

“You are a Selkie, aren’t you.” She stated more than asked.

His posture tensed, giving a stilted nod in reply. But he had nothing to fear from her, giving him a soft and reassuring smile in respone to his wariness. “I do not know which of the stories are true, but I do know about the pelt. I will not touch it, I promise. As long as you don’t try to seduce me against my consent.” She then tacked on, feeling a little mischievious, and hoping to break the tension in the room.

A dark eyebrow jumped at her words, frowned lips relaxing into an amused expression. “I think I could withhold the urge.” His voice a low, mellow sound, and she spotted the twinkle of humour in his eyes at his own words.

“Well, thank you kindly.” She replied tartly, before heading over to the stove to check the pot. The stew was bubbling away, so with gloved hands, she removed it to the counter and began to dish up their meal.

They ate in silence, Sansa pulling up another stool so they both could sit near the fire and warm up. He ate like a starving man, and she happily gave him seconds after that mournful looked he casted at his empty bowl when he finished his first round.

It was nice to have company for a change, even if it was a mythical creature. She had left home young, running away at fourteen to escape an arranged marriage to a horrid boy. Sansa had packed up a small bag of clothes, coin, her sewing kit, and took Lady and ran. With only her stolen horse and puppy, she had been quite lonely.

She was afraid of befriending many people in town after settling down, scared that after all these years, her family would find her again. Would drag her back to marry against her will. Though she made polite conversation with the townspeople, Sansa kept to herself.

Having company over was very rare, only customers wanting to put in an order, having missed the chance on market days. Even then they were only here for an hour at the most. Sansa had built up quite the reputation for a secluded woman, some children even thought of her as some witch, to which Sansa had found amusing.

After collecting the bowls and washing them swiftly, she turned back to Cor, a dilemma on her mind. “I don’t quite know where to put you.”

“I can sleep here.” He gestured to the front of the fire place. She wanted to argue that it would be rude of her, as his host, to allow him to sleep on the floor, but she was quite sure about sharing her bed with a stranger, so she conceded with a sigh.

Gathering her extra blankets and pillows, she made a thick bed on the floor, almost nest-like, and was relieved to see that he happily crawled onto and laid down to sleep. Bidding him good night, she closed her bedroom door and prepared for bed.

When dawn broke through the clouds, less heavy than yesterday, Sansa wrapped her shawl around her nightgown and walked into the main room, needing to let Lady out to do her business. She yawned, opening and then closing the front door, and shuffled to the kitchen, filling up her kettle with the water from last night’s bucket, and waited for the water to boil.

Blinking sleepily, she surveyed the room and froze in confusion at the empty pile of blankets and faintly smouldering ash in the fire place. Taking a proper look around the room, her sleepy mind caught up to the present and her heart dropped a little, disappointed that her guest had left.

Gazing at the drying rack, only containing her now dry clothes from last night, she sighed, and marched over to pull on her boots. Still a little damp, but do-able, she grasped the bucket handle, and marched out the front door, needing to pump some more water for today.

Squinting at the sunlight, she heard Lady barking and after follow to wher her dog was looking, Sansa spotted a figure climbing up the rocky ledge outside her house. She just had small cobbled stone pathway and then on the other side, the ground slanted downwards, becoming a rough, rock covered beach.

And there, not a few feet away from her front door, was Cor. His pelt wrapped around his waist, once again naked, dripping with sea water, and a fist full of fish in his hand.

Blinking, stunned at his presence, joy slowly filled her at knowing that he hadn’t left her yet.

The rest of the week passed in similar fashion, with Cor going out to hunt in the earlier morn for some sort of fish, and they would eat it for a meal at some point that day. Sansa had to have gotten used to eating fish so much since moving to a fishing town, and though at times she missed have lamb or pork on a more regular basis, she found it pleasant to have someone personally hunt her food for her than spending money.

And what fish she didn’t eat, Cor was happy to eat the rest for her.

In the afternoons, after her daily chores were done, she would work on her sewing, finishing up or starting projects for customers, and Cor was content to either sit and observe, or read something from her shelf of books. Since arriving here, she would treat herself to a new book every two weeks, setting aside a little of her money earned from work to treat herself. It was nice to see someone interacting with her books, and sometimes Cor would ask questions about their contents and events that happened within the pages.

In the late afternoon, she would go for her stroll by the beach, walking Lady, and Cor came with her, his pelt hanging over his shoulders, mimicking her shawl. Sansa would spend the walk asking about different folklore and legends, and Cor would answer with what was true or an exaggeration. In return, she would talk about her own life, how she came to be living here alone, as well as her childhood and family.

He seemed to be in agreement with her leaving her betrothal, and his sympathy had her reminding herself that Selkies were sometimes forced into a marriage, unwilling and constantly yearning to return to the ocean.

It was nice to have someone understanding her predicament.

On market days, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday, she would pack up in the morning and have her horse carry her wares into town, pulling a small cart behind her. She would stay until late afternoon, trying to sell as much as possible.

When Cor came into her life out of nowhere, she was tempted to skip market days, but at his insistence, she would leave him behind, where he was satisfied with reading and eating raw fish. She had turned up her nose in disgust the first time she saw him bite into a freshly caught fish, much to his amusement, and it took sometime for her to adjust to his way of eating.

But through it all, she was finding herself settling into this new routine, happy with the turn of direction her life had taken. Cor was a quiet man, though when on a topic he was very passionate about, he could talk for hours. He seemed to enjoy watching the seagulls fly above them when walking, and had a snarky sense of humour. She couldn’t help how fond she began to grow for him, smiling like a loon whenever he went on some rant at the table during a meal.

Cor had arrived on Thursday evening, and when it dawned on Wednesday morning, she began her usual tasks, only to notice him sitting on the rocks outside, looking out to the sea. There was a regretful, longing look in his eyes, as Sansa sat down next to him, wrapping her shawl tight around her body.

The wind blew their hair away and around their faces, and Sansa waited for him to find the words to say. He then reached out, a silent offering and she reached back, holding tight to his large, cold hands.

“I leave tomorrow morning.” He whispered into the wind.

She turned to look at him, and couldn’t help the sorrowful tone in her question. “So soon?”

Cor continued to face away, and continued, “I stay on land for seven days and then depart.”

Biting her lip, she blurted out with faint pleading, “Will you return?” ‘ _To me_.’ Went unsaid, and finally he turned to meet her saddened gaze. His eyes softened, and brought his other hand up to cup her cheek. She let her eyes flutter shut as they both leaned in to touch lips.

Her heart thudded hard in her chest, and she pressed closer in desperation, wanting to savour every moment and touch before his departure.

When they broke away, faintly panting for breath, he leant his forehead to her’s. “I return in seven months.”

Sansa’s lips began to tremble, and she tried to force her tears back. “I will be so lonely again with out you.”

He laid a gentle kiss on her lips and ran his fingers through her tangled hair. “I know. I’m sorry.”

That day she forwent market day, spending the rest of her time with Cor, trying hard to stop her heart from breaking. And that night, instead of him sleeping on the floor, she brought him to her bed.

His touch was electrifying, starting a storm in her chest, and she held onto him desperately through their lover’s dance. His hands caressed her body like she was something to be revered, worshiping her skin. Sansa forever remembered his stormy eyes, heavy and filled with love and desire, as he watched her through it all.

In the morning he was gone, and he had left her with only the lingering sensations in her body and a heart filled with longing.

Life carried on as it was before Cor, and it wasn’t until a month after his departure, she noticed that there was something else he had left behind. The townspeople did not know what to make of her sudden pregnancy, with her only answer being that the father was away at sea, and would return. Her strong belief had many looking at her with pity, doubting her words. But she knew the truth. Sansa knew he would return.

And he did. Bringing another storm with him.

Six months later, he returned to her, pregnant and glowing with joy at his return, tears building in her eyes. His stunned and hopeful expression made up for how lonely she had been, and he greeted her with a strong embrace, twirling her off the ground with happiness. Her laughter of pure euphoria surrounding them as the winds howled and sea crashed.

That week was filled with such blissfulness, that when it came to an end, she was jarred out of the dream state she was living in. But she dared not to beg him to stay, knowing that his love for the sae was bigger than his love for her, and she would not take that away from him.

However, he offered another solution.

At first she was quick to shoot it down, not wanting to keep him captive on land when he belonged at sea with his family.

“You are my family as well Sansa,” He had argued. “I wish to be here for you when our child is born. So please, do this for me. This is not against my will. I _promise_.”

She gave in and took the pelt.

In a trunk under their bed, Sansa tucked it neatly away and locked the lid shut. The key was then hung on some twine by the side her waist, along with the rest of her keys. The first couple of weeks, Sansa would notice him looking at the keys, jangling lightly as she walked. When he would stare she would begin to untie the key, but his gentle hands would stop her movement.

Over the rest of the months leading to her labour, the gazes had lessened, though he started the habit of watching the sea every morning, Sansa coming out to hand him some warm tea, leaving him to his longing.

Though she put up such a large fight against this decision, a part of her, a selfish part, was happy he was here for the birth of their daughter.

Cordelia emerged screaming, flailing, and healthy into this world, and Sansa and Cor adored her deeply. It was exhausting but rewarding work, caring for her. Sansa could not be more overjoyed at knowing that when Cor inevitably leaves, she would not be entirely alone anymore, a piece of him left behind.

He was a dotting father, happy to hold on the her and play with her whilst Sansa got work done or went into the town. Cor never seemed interested in visiting it with her, happy to stay away from humans, and Sansa never pushed him on the matter.

For a time, they were a content and peaceful family of three. But both could feel the looming departure in their future.

He had stayed for five months, three for the pregnancy, and two more months helping her adjust and enjoying his time with them. And in the morning, just on the cusp of the start of the sixth month, Sansa exited their cottage in the morning, Cordelia swaddled to her chest. And in her arm’s Sansa carried Cor’s pelt.

He still faced the ocean as she laid the thick skin over his shoulders.

They shared one long, passionate kiss before leaving, him wadding into the cold waves. He ducked underneath and was gone. But in the distance, a seal’s head poked above the water and let out a bark of farewell, Lady returning the call.

This departure felt more agonising than the first, Sansa falling to her knees and crying silently, cradling Cordelia tight to her chest.

But life moved forward as it’s wont to do and every seven months, Cor would return and hand her his pelt. He brought a storm with him every time, harsh and angry like the sea was wrathful at the loss of it’s child. And soon they worked out a system. Seven months on land, seven at sea.

Staring out the window, watching the torrent of rain slam against the glass, Cordelia sat on the window seat with her, ten and excited to see her father, though slowly drooping eyelids with the late hour. Her hair was the same deep red shade as Sansa’s but her eyes were the stormy blue of Cor’s, skin just as freckled as his.

Stroking a loving hand over her sleepy daughter’s hair, Sansa gently nudged Cordelia to lean against her chest, small body bracketed between her legs. Humming a soft lullaby, Sansa continued to wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Cordelia means: Heart; daughter of the sea.   
> This went on waaay longer than planned, but god did I enjoy writing it.


End file.
